Baz rubbed his thumb along the edge of his mustache, his forehead creased in thought. “Someone wanted to get possession of those bodies.”

“Or wanted to stop someone else from snatching ’em.”

He nodded slowly. “But why?”

Gemma wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling herself shrinking into the chair. “This topic’s torture to me, Baz. Please don’t belabor it.”

He dipped his head. “My apologies. I forgot for a moment how abhorrent you find it all.” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I’d also all but forgotten that you call me ‘Baz.’ No one else does. I’ve missed hearing it.”

A bit of relief washed over her. This was the ground she’d meant to be walking, not the slippery bog they’d traversed. “I’ve missed saying it.”

His eyes darted from her to the carpetbag on the floor, studying it for the length of a breath. “Are you between places?”

Am I between places?

“You’re welcome to stay here for a time if you need. The room you used is empty.”

The room you used. Not “your room.” The room she’d used. In a house she was welcome to stay in for a time. She wasn’t “between places”; she’d come home because he’d asked her to. He’d finally sent for her.

“I’ll tell Mrs. Simms however much you’d like,” Baz said quietly, retaking his chair. “At the moment, she knows only that you’re related to me in some way.”

“You ain’t told her that you’re married?”

He shrugged. “Ours isn’t a regular sort of marriage. And you’re not ever here. It was far simpler to not explain over and over again.”

“Have you told anyone at all that you’ve been churched?”

He sat a bit stiffer. “Very few people know that I am married.”

Did he not want to admit to it? She’d feared that for a long time. He’d no claim on a fine and fancy history. He hadn’t lords and ladies and respectable people in his family; leastwise, none he knew of. But she was the daughter of a notorious resurrection man, one of three who ruled the Kincaid family with a violent iron fist. Baz hadn’t ever said he was ashamed of being married to her. But not telling hardly a soul about her seemed to prove he was.

“Even after you sent word to me, you still didn’t tell Mrs. Simms?” Surely he’d have made some preparations for her return now that he was ready to make something more of their marriage. It was the requirement she’d set—they’d set—for him writing to her at long last.